


The Product of Sex (it's not just sperm)

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anderson and Donovan being arseholes, Babies, Daddy John, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mistakes, Uncle Sherlock, might be triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-08
Updated: 2012-08-08
Packaged: 2017-11-11 17:39:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/481132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Who cares if you were a mistake? All the best things are.”<br/>“Like what?”<br/>“A lot of scientific theories, that element I created, Holmium, and most importantly, you, me."<br/>“You?”<br/>“Yes, of course. Do you really think any parent intended to create me?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Product of Sex (it's not just sperm)

“Sherlock?”

“Busy.”

“But Uncle Sherlock-”

“Hamish, you know I abhor you calling me uncle.”

“Sorry Sherlock.”

“Hmm. I said I’m busy.”

“Was I a mistake?”

“Of course you were.”

“Oh.” Hamish sniffed, “I’ll just go to bed then.”

Sherlock looked up from his microscope to see Hamish crying silently, “Why are you crying?”

“B-because daddy didn’t want me.”

“And?”

“And so he doesn’t love me!”

Sherlock scoffed, “Don’t be an idiot. Of course he does.”

“B-but... I don’t understand! You said I was I mistake! And that daddy didn’t want me!”

“Well you are and he didn’t.”

“So then he can’t love me!”

“Now you’re really being stupid.”

“Uncle Sherlock, can you explain it to me?” Hamish sniffed again.

Sherlock briefly closed his eyes, and then opened them exasperatedly. He pulled the eight year old Hamish onto his lap facing him.

“Fine. John- your father – was quite the ladies man, so went on many of dates, annoyingly. Many of which I interrupted with interesting things like cases and myself. He went on quite a few dates with an abhorrent Mary woman he was quite fond of, they had sex and, John, stupidly, managed to get her pregnant with you. Therefore, you were a mistake. I remember he was quite hysterical for a while. Moaning on and on about how he was ‘not fit to be a father’ and how he couldn’t help me on cases any more. Well you can see how that turned out.”

Hamish looked up at Sherlock with big eyes, his mouth slightly parted as he listened carefully to his fast ramblings.

“So, daddy met mum, and he loved her and made her have a baby that he didn’t want?” Hamish asked, “Uncle Sherlock can you slow down a bit?”

“Almost right, I doubt he loved her. Certainly ‘made love’ to her. A lot. I caught them on the sofa once.  I’m still not sure why he punched me when I asked to observe them. It was merely for a social experiment.”

“Made love?”

“Yes, sex,” Sherlock waved off, “And no, I won’t slow down, you’ve done fine understanding me so far.”

“But, Uncle Sherlock-”

“No. Right, where was I? Oh yes.” Sherlock continued, and his slightly slowed speech did not go unnoticed by Hamish, “Anyway, Mary gave birth to you, John was still hysterical, and insisted I be there ‘for support’ and so I took it as an opportunity to do an experiment involving the expanding of the cervix while giving birth. Once again, I am not sure why the nurse asked me to leave when I tried to get a closer look. But yes, you were born, and Mary- your mother- had complications, though, and died.”

“Oh.” Hamish said sadly, “Daddy doesn’t like to talk about her, especially about her dying.”

“Yes, I observed that. I don’t know why though, considering he’s a doctor and he works cases; he deals with death almost every day. So anyway, you can see why he didn’t want you originally; because he didn’t think he’d be a good father and he wouldn’t be able to help me on cases. Also, because John has to be Mr Noble, he was going to marry Mary. And I can’t blame him for being worried about that.”

“But that still doesn’t explain-”

“I hadn’t finished Hamish.” Sherlock admonished, but with a small smile, “Now, I was outside of the hospital room, because of that stupid nurse, but when John came out of the room with you, he had the biggest smile on his face and crying. By now Mary was in surgery, but I think John knew she wouldn’t make it through, because he had that sad look he always has when someone dies before we get there.  But he came out and said, ‘Sherlock, this is Hamish, my son!’ and then he burst into tears. It was quite funny actually. Until he made me hold you, then it was just annoying because you and John were both crying. Then he hugged me and you, and Lestrade and Mycroft when they came along and was blabbing on saying ‘He’s my boy, my lovely little son’ and cried some more.”

Hamish was smiling now, “I’ve seen daddy cry before; it is very funny! He scrunches up his face and goes red and his lip trembles!”

Sherlock laughed a little, “Yes, he does that.”

“Thank you Uncle Sherlock.” Hamish gave a watery smile and wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s waist and squeezed him into a tight hug. Sherlock dithered for a bit, unsure what to do, but eventually hugged the boy lightly back.

“You shouldn’t listen to Anderson or Donovan; you know they’re the biggest idiots on the planet.” Sherlock said knowingly.

Hamish looked up at Sherlock again, his head still resting on Sherlock’s chest, “How did you know-”

“Are you really going to ask me that?” Sherlock smirked with a raised eyebrow.

The boy shut his mouth slowly.

“Thought so. Anyway, who cares if you were a mistake? All the best things are.”

“Like what?”

“A lot of scientific theories, that element I created, Holmium, and most importantly, you, me.”

“You?”

“Yes, of course. Do you really think any parent intended to create me?”

“Well, I’m glad they did! You’re the best!”

Sherlock smiled faintly, “Don’t let John hear you saying that!”

Hamish giggled as he heard the front door open, and John call out to the room, “Hamish, Sherlock, I’m home.”

John walked over to the pair and smiled at the sight of his son curled up on Sherlock’s lap. He placed a comforting hand on Sherlock’s shoulder and squeezed lightly.

“Ah, John, welcome back. It seems we need to talk to Anderson and Donovan about what they can say in front of our- _your_ son.”

John beamed at Sherlock’s slip up and squeezed his shoulder again affectionately, before he realised the point of the sentence and his grin slipped, “What do you mean? What did they say, Hamish?”

“That I was a mistake.”

A funny thing happened to John after Hamish replied; he froze and paled considerably, fists clenched tightly, and then, all of a sudden, his face flushed red with rage and he inhaled sharply, nostrils flaring, and, with his hand still on Sherlock’s shoulder, his nails dug deep enough to leave mark through the clothing.

“I’ll kill them. I’ll fucking kill them!” he growled.

“No, daddy, it’s fine! Sherlock told me everything; I know I am.” Hamish said proudly.

John’s head snapped to Sherlock, “You _what!?_ ”

“John, I assure you-“

“Don’t you dare fucking assure me anything you prick!” John shouted, and Sherlock was confused.

“But I was only telling the truth-“

“The truth!? How fucking dare you start with that?!”

“John if you would just listen-”

“Get out.”

“What?”

“But daddy-” Hamish began.

“Hamish go wait in your room, _now_.”

Hamish gave Sherlock once last squeeze and ran along to his room, sniffling as he went.

“Sherlock, how _dare_ you say that to my son.” John began again, voice quiet and full of rage. Sherlock knew not to try reason when John used that voice. “You’re a fucking arsehole! Calling my son a mistake? He’s eight years old, he’s my son and he’s the best thing that ever happened to me, Sherlock bloody Holmes. I can’t believe you! You think you’re oh so clever with your massive intellect and think that you can just say anything you want to anyone, but get this Sherlock, you fucking can’t! I will put up with you saying it to anyone else, to me even, but drag my son into this sick game of yours and I will fucking hurt you Sherlock.”

“John, I’m-”

“No, Sherlock. I want you to leave.” Sherlock didn’t move, so John tried again, his voice full of hate and anger, “ _Now_.”

Sherlock got up and grabbed his coat without complaint, looking back at John with a sad smile, “I’ll see you later, John.”

“Not bloody likely.” John growled in anger.

The door slammed behind him and John let out a long breath. He massaged his head for a bit before heading off to Hamish’s room to talk to him. He pushed the door open to see his son sobbing into his pillow, his little shoulders shaking.

“Hamish? Are you alright?”

The boy turned around as John sat on the bed and grabbed tightly at John’s jumper.

“Daddy, don’t make Sherlock go forever, please!”

John ran his hand through Hamish’s hair, and sighed, “I don’t want to, but he can’t say those things about you!”

“But he said how I was a good thing!”

“You told me he said you were a mistake...?”

“He did! And I know I am!” Hamish repeated the same words from earlier.

“Now, Hamish, just because Uncle Sherlock says something doesn’t mean he’s right! I love you very, very much and you are definitely not a mistake.” John explained, rubbing his nose against Hamish’s.

“But-but Uncle Sherlock said that I was a good mistake, like science things! And something he made! And like him! He said ‘what person would want to make me’. But I said he was the best! Er, after you of course!”

John swallowed, “He said you were like him?”

“Yeah! And he was saying how much you loved me when I was born! He said I was like you crying and annoying but he thought it was funny, until you hugged us, but he was smiling all the time he was telling me and I think he didn’t really find it annoying and pointless because he deletes annoying and pointless things and he remembered a lot.” Hamish smiled.

John closed his eyes and pecked Hamish on the cheek, “I’m such an idiot. He was being nice for once and I kicked him out!”

A small cough came from behind the pair, and they both turned around to see Sherlock sheepishly standing in the doorway.

“It’s nice to see you admitting that you are an idiot.”

John smiled and walked over to Sherlock, pulling him into a hug, “I’m sorry I yelled, Sherlock, I just-”

“Shh, John, I know. It’s all fine.”

John looked up at Sherlock and quickly kissed him on the lips, before remembering his audience and pulling away, grinning widely.

“Er, goodnight, Hamish,” John said, before he squeaked loudly, sent Sherlock a death glare and pushed him out of the room.

“Night Hamish!” Sherlock called over his shoulder, the smile evident in his voice.

“Night night, daddy; night night, Uncle Sherlock!” Hamish replied sleepily.

And as he fell asleep he heard the faint conversation of his guardians drifting through to his room, “Sherlock, don’t pinch my arse in front of Hamish!”

“Oh, you loved it and you know it.”

 

 

 


End file.
